Dear Mom and Dad
by navycorpsman
Summary: Years after Neil’s death, Mr. Perry comes across a letter written by his only child before he died. Can Mr. Perry forgive Mr. Keating and himself?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this fic...If I DID own the characters, I'd have Charlie all to myself! And Neil would still be alive...and Charlie would be mine...and Mr. Keating would still have his job...and Charlie would be mine…and Chet Danbury would have his but kicked by Knox...and Charlie would be mine…and it would have been Cameron that would have been expelled…and Charlie would be mine…and Todd would have a backbone…and did I mention Charlie would be mine? I did? Oh...Okay! Well then. It's settled. Charlie would be mine if I owned the characters.**

**Spoilers: Yeah, there's one if you've not seen the movie, but not one if you have seen the movie.**

**(I couldn't find the name of Neil's mother, so I made one up.)**

**Summary: Years after Neil's death, Mr. Perry comes across a letter written by his only child before he died. Can Mr. Perry forgive Mr. Keating and himself?**

* * *

The box was in the state it had been nearly 20 years earlier. Taped shut and not a glance inside. Tom Perry held it for just a moment before sitting on the couch and attempting to free the box from the trappings of the tape. He hesitated before opening it. It contained small items belonging to his only child, Neil, who killed himself at age 17. Time, he felt, had done nothing to resolve the hurt, the anger, and the grief over losing his son. 

Slowly, he took off the box lid and sorted through some of the items. The box contained things from Neil's childhood that his parents couldn't bear to part with. So, they packed what they could and stuck it up in a special place in the attic, waiting for the right day, the right time, to be opened.

He wiped some tears as he held up the picture of him, Neil, and Rose at Welton. Neil was the spitting image of his father and Tom would never forgive Mr. Keating for taking his only son from him.

He took out a small book of poems that Neil had written throughout the years and paused on the short one, simply titled _"CRY"_.

_Cry not for me when I leave_

_For you are destined to again join me._

_Cry not tears of anguish bent_

_But rejoice in the life God lent._

_Cry not when we are parted_

_But be open and light hearted._

_Cry not when God calls me home_

_For your journey to join me won't take long. (1)  
_

Mr. Perry wiped a tear. Neil had written that when he was only ten when his beloved grandfather had died. Neil had taken his grandfather's death hard and writing this poem helped the young man deal with the tremendous loss.

Mr. Perry dug deeper into the box, pulling out more things reminding him of the life lost too early. He carefully opened the nearly moth eaten Welton sweater and saw a sheet of paper flutter to the ground. Curious, Mr. Perry opened the sheet and read it. He hung his head and profusely cried into the musty sweater.

"Tom?" Rose Perry entered the den. "You okay?" She saw the box and sat by him and rubbed his back tenderly. "I know, Tom. I know."

"No, you don't." He handed her the paper. "Read Neil's last letter."

Rose did as she was bid and cried as she handed Tom back the paper. "He never…he never…" was all she mumbled, as she cried into her husband's chest.

* * *

**(1) I wrote this myself...just for this story!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this fic...If I DID own the characters, I'd have Charlie all to myself! And Neil would still be alive...and Charlie would be mine...and Mr. Keating would still have his job...and Charlie would be mine…and Chet Danbury would have his but kicked by Knox...and Charlie would be mine…and it would have been Cameron that would have been expelled…and Charlie would be mine…and Todd would have a backbone…and did I mention Charlie would be mine? I did? Oh...Okay! Well then. It's settled. Charlie would be mine if I owned the characters.**

**Spoilers: Yeah, there's one if you've not seen the movie, but not one if you have seen the movie.**

**(I couldn't find the name of Neil's mother, so I made one up.)**

**Summary: Years after Neil's death, Mr. Perry comes across a letter written by his only child before he died. Can Mr. Perry forgive Mr. Keating and himself?**

* * *

Mr. Keating sat in the coffee shop, reviewing papers. He hated mid terms and this year proved to be no different. He sighed as he marked another English paper and took a sip of coffee. He didn't like that the class of 1980 didn't take English or poetry seriously. He had tried to make it as fun as he had the previous years he taught, but they seemed to dislike the idea of the romantics. He thought that this was the right year, after 30 years, to retire from teaching. 

Mr. Perry walked in the coffee shop, the letter held tightly in his hand. He shook off the snow and sat in front of Mr. Keating. "Mr. Keating." He said staunchly.

Mr. Keating didn't look up as he continued to check papers. "How may I be of service to you, Mr. Perry?" The twenty years of dislike for each other the men had for each other seemed evident to all who were there.

Mr. Perry laughed. "I hope this so called disco thing is on its way out. At least Neil and the boys had the decency to listen to good music." He noticed that he didn't get so much as a smile from Mr. Keating. "You are not as I remember you being, Mr. Keating."

Mr. Keating took off his glasses and looked at Mr. Perry. "Why should I? I've had every one look at me these past twenty years like I was the one that pulled the trigger."

Mr. Perry looked sorrowfully at the younger gentleman and pushed the letter towards him. "I was going through some of Neil's stuff that Rose and I kept and this fell out of one of his old sweaters and I thought you should read it."

"How'd you know I would be here?" Mr. Keating's question seemed interrogative.

"Most of us know where you grade papers and how much you enjoy your coffee. Rose's grand niece is in your English class, which is how we knew where you'd be." Mr. Perry ordered a cup of coffee. "I'll want to talk when you've read it."

Mr. Keating took the letter, feeling that Mr. Perry wanted him to read it then. He put his glasses on and carefully read the nearly fading ink.

_December 12, 1959_

_Dear Mother and Father, _

_This letter may be the hardest thing for you to read and for me to write. I never meant to hurt you, but I have to be free. You have never once considered what I have wanted from life or what dreams I had. You never thought about what lay before me…you only really thought about what you wanted for me._

_I never wanted to attend Welton. I did because of how much it meant to Mom. Great guilt trip, by the way, Father. Everything was planned for me without so much as consulting me. Every time I tried to speak out, it was 'Think of what this means to your mother.' or 'You know how much this means to your mother.'_

_Why wasn't it ever what it meant to me?_

_The only good thing, really, to have come out of my time at Welton was Mr. Keating. He listened when you wouldn't._

_Henry Thoreau once said that 'Most men lead lives of quiet desperation' and I was one of those men. Whitman wrote 'O me, O life of the questions of these recurring, of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities filled with the foolish. What good amid these, O me, O life? Answer: that you are here. That life exists, and identity. That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.' I wanted to contribute a verse, but the verse I was to contribute was what you wanted me to. I had no voice to tell you what I wanted that verse to be._

_Mr. Keating urged us to find our voices, yes, but he never did once urge us to disobey._

_When I approached him about Father wanting me to quit the play, he didn't urge me to continue unless I talked to Father first._

_I lied. I told him I talked to you. I had to stay in that play. I was 'Puck', the main character. I had found my voice and what I wanted to do. What was in my soul._

_But Father's reaction to Mr. Keating, telling him to 'stay away from my son' only deepened the wound. Only hurt me more. Mr. Keating was the only one who believed in me._

_Then the argument tonight. 'I am withdrawing you from Welton and enrolling you in Braden Military school. You are going to Harvard and you're going to be a doctor.' Then when I raise my voice to tell you what I felt, it was 'Stop being so dramatic. You make it sound like a prison term.'_

_To me, it is. Do either of you really know me? Do either of you really understand me? If you did, you would know that the sight of blood is enough to make me sick. But, you sent me off to boarding school before discovering that fact. In fact, I think when you read this letter, it will be the first time you ever knew that._

_I never wanted to be a doctor. I never really wanted to act. I love acting. It's a part of who I am…but I know that I couldn't make a real career out of it. It wasn't until this year I discovered what I really wanted to be and that was an English teacher._

_Thank Mr. Keating for that._

_He may have been a teacher, but he knew me better than either one of you ever really did. It's really sad that a teacher knows a kid better than the kid's own parents._

_Truth be told, he was the father I never really had. He listened. He cared. He helped. He never once held me down. Under you, Father, I couldn't breathe. When Mr. Keating came, I finally discovered what it felt like to draw a deep breath and feel alive._

_I discovered living._

_I know that you'll blame him for what I'm about to do, but it's not his fault. It's yours. Yours and Mother's. For never being there. For never being the Mother and Father I needed. I didn't need to be held down or controlled; I just needed to find out who I was outside of you and you never gave me that chance._

_I know that you'll be hurt, but I can say that, as I write this, I don't think I care. I'm more concerned about how Todd, Charlie, Knox, Pittsie, Meeks, and Mr. Keating will feel. Kinda of messed up, isn't it?_

_But, even though I'm afraid of how much they'll hurt, I can no longer live as a prisoner._

_There. I've said my piece. Tell the others I'm sorry._

_Neil_


End file.
